


there was a story

by poe_daaaayyuuuumron8



Series: OW [4]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depiction of Injuries, Dr. Ziegler's healing magic, Genji Shimada is a Little Shit, Hurt Genji Shimada, Hurt Hanzo Shimada, Latino Jesse McCree, M/M, because i love it so much, he's just a lil baby shit, i just feel like thats an important thing to share, i kinda like it, idk man good luck, its kinda good, its never actually mentioned that he's latino, non-graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27019189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poe_daaaayyuuuumron8/pseuds/poe_daaaayyuuuumron8
Summary: In Hanzo’s family, there was a story. The story of the dragons, that was burned into his memory by his father.It was his story now, his and his brother’s.He knew listening to his father’s stories was a bad idea.orHanzo Shimada kinda sorta joins overwatch, and faces the team
Relationships: Genji Shimada & Hanzo Shimada, Jesse McCree/Genji Shimada
Series: OW [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2051115
Kudos: 64





	there was a story

In Hanzo’s family, there was a story. The story of the dragons, that was burned into his memory by his father. 

It was his story now, his and his brother’s. 

He knew listening to his father’s stories was a bad idea. 

“Genji!” Hanzo yelled as his brother fell. 

Joining Overwatch was a bad idea. 

Hanzo was met with the sound of a strangled scream from his brother. 

Whatever it was that hit Genji sent sparks dancing over his armor, as he convulsed and shook on the ground. 

“Genji!” A heavily accented voice shouted from Hanzo’s side, and the cowboy he met earlier vaulted over the half blown-out wall they were taking cover behind. 

Hanzo fires off an arrow, covering the cowboy - McCree, Hanzo remembers - before dashing forward himself, racing to his brother’s side. McCree, before doing anything else, grabs Genji underneath the arms and drags him behind cover, while Hanzo lays down fire.

McCree sets Genji down and his hands are shaking. Genji screams again, that same, choked off, heart-shattering scream, and spasms, convulsing, as electricity arcs across his suit, and McCree reaches out for him, jerking away from the electricity. His hands are already red and burned from it, but he tries again, grimacing against the pain, searching for the root of the problem. 

Hanzo rushes forward, placing himself in between the enemy and McCree and Genji, bow drawn and taught, firing at anything that gets too close, glancing behind him every chance he gets. 

The sound comes from Genji again and his back arches off the ground, legs kicking out. McCree, grimacing against the pain of the electricity, braces an arm on his shoulders, holding him down, apparently finding the stem of the pain and attempting to pry it off his chest. He curses profusely as he tries to get it off, and when it’s clear he can’t get it off with just his hands, he grabs his knife off his belt and wedges it underneath the disc-looking thing. It slips off and McCree crushes it underneath his boot. 

Genji immediately relaxes, going completely limp, breathing heavily. McCree drops his knife, and places a hand on Genji’s faceplate, where his cheek would be. 

“It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,” Genji repeats, curling in on himself, and Hanzo shivers at his broken tone. 

“It’s alrigh’ darlin’, you’re gonna be alrigh’, just breathe for me Genji, you just gotta breathe,” McCree murmurs, one hand still on Genji, ducking his head from an oncoming explosion. 

“It hurts,” Genji sobs, and grabs at McCree. “Jesse- it hurts.” 

McCree nods, brow furrowed, and pulls Genji into his chest, who in turn knots his hands into his shirt and shivers in pain.

“Winston, I need an evac- we gotta get Genji outta here,” McCree says into his comm, pitching his body over Genji’s when a bullet whizzed too close. Hanzo immediately turned and shot down that mech, nailing a few others before they got the chance to fire their way. 

The monkey -scientist- responded affirmatively. “You will have to get him to a drop point though. The ship can’t land with all this fire.” 

“Understood,” McCree replied, before shifting Genji slightly. “Genji, darlin’, we’ve gotta get ya outta here. Can ya walk?” Genji just shuddered in reply. “Alright, I got ya, don’t worry.” McCree sent Hanzo a glance. “Shimada, ya comin’?” 

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, nodding. “Obviously.”

“Good. Cover me,” McCree said, then shifted Genji some more, lacing an arm under his knees and the other under his back, before exhaling deeply and standing, darting forward to more cover as fast as he could. Hanzo followed, standing in between them and the enemy again, firing off arrows as fast as he could. 

McCree juggled Genji around slightly, getting a better grip, before kicking open a door, and letting Hanzo go first, scanning their surroundings and rushing forward. Hanzo followed him, assuming he probably knew where he was going, and shot down what few enemies they crossed. 

Finally, just when McCree was slowing down from exhaustion, they reached the drop point. The ship was already waiting for them, and Hanzo has never been so happy to see a medic before. The medic in question, Zenyatta, Genji has mentioned several times before. His ‘Master’ of some sorts. 

McCree sets Genji down on the ground, kneeling next to him, and Zenyatta sits cross legged on his other side, his hands reaching to the back of Genji’s faceplate, quickly undoing the clasps. It hisses and Zenyatta slides it off, revealing part of Genji’s face. 

Hanzo looks away. 

McCree glares at him. 

Genji whimpers. 

“Hush, my child, you will be alright,” Zenyatta says, and places a hand where Genji’s forehead would be, the other resting on his chest. One of his orbs floats away from the circle, and comes to a stop above Genji, an aura of yellow healing stemming from it, drifting down to Genji. His shaking slows to a stop as it reaches him, and he blinks slowly, head lolling to the side, towards Jesse. 

“You gon’ be aight’ darlin’. Don’t you worry ‘bout nut’in,” McCree murmurs to him, and kisses his knuckles, fingers laced through his. 

Zenyatta continues his work. McCree whispers sweet comforts. Hanzo stands off to the side, feeling more secluded than he has ever felt before. Somewhere in there, Genji passes out. 

When Zenyatta is done, with gentle touches, he seals up Genji’s armor, and lays a hand on his cheek, gently caressing the carbon fiber. Hanzo doesn’t know exactly how he can tell the robot’s expression, given his stagnant face, but he could envision his expression, were he human. It would be one of love, and caring, with worry creasing his face. 

Hanzo looks away again. He does not deserve the honor of being near his brother. After all, if he didn’t do this to Genji, he would not be in this situation. 

There’s shuffling behind him, and when he glances around, he sees that McCree has taken off his poncho and laid it across Genji, tucking it under his chin, before taking his hand again, resting his forehead on their clasped hands. 

“You love him,” Hanzo said. It was not a question, simply an observation. 

McCree raised his head, looking at the wall in front of him. Zenyatta looked at the two of them, then levitated up into his regular position, and headed towards the cockpit. 

“Am I wrong?” Hanzo continued. 

McCree sighed, swiping a thumb over Genji’s knuckles, then setting it gently over his stomach. He stood, his spurs clicking as he walked toward Hanzo. The archer had to admit; it was a bit of an intimidating sight. 

“Yeah,” the cowboy said, his voice gruff, the prominent accent marking his words. “Yeah, Shimada, I love ‘im. We all do.” Hanzo stood his ground as McCree got closer. “So the only reason you ain’t gotta bullet between your eyes righ’ now is ‘cause he asked me not to. So you’d best be real thankful that I do.” 

It was a booming laugh that startled them from their staredown. Reinhardt clapped McCree on the back, sending him stumbling forward. 

“Why so serious, my friends! We have won!” Reinhardt exclaimed, his thick accent and tone making it hard not to smile. Brigette followed him, offering a small wave and a blushing smile. 

“Do not step on Genji!” McCree called as Reinhardt stepped into the ship. 

“No! Genji? Never!” Reinhardt laughed. “You on the other hand…” he trailed off, then laughed loudly. 

McCree opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but a cheery voice cut him off.

“Jesse!” the voice cried and a blue streak darted into the ship, then darted to Jesse’s side. The streak solidified into the aggressively British girl- Lena, maybe? “Is Genji alright?” She darted away to Genji’s side then popped back to Jesse. 

“Yeah, Lena, he’ll be fine, nothing to worry about,” Jesse answered, smiling kindly at her. Lena nodded, then disappeared, reappearing in the pilot’s seat of the ship. 

The rest of the group piled into the ship, rowdy and, in a few instances, bloody. There wasn’t a single person who didn’t ask about Genji. McCree sat back down with Genji gathered in his arms, maneuvering them so there wasn’t a risk of getting stepped on. Hanzo stayed off to the side, towards the entrance to the ship, ‘looking about ready to bolt,’ he heard Lucio quietly murmur to Pharah when they thought he couldn’t hear them. 

“You should sit down, Shimada,” McCree told him right before take off. “As good a pilot Trace thinks she is, it can get a lil’ bumpy.”

“Excuse me!” Lena exclaimed, glaring back at Jesse as a chorus of ‘oooh’s came from the others. 

Despite himself, Hanzo tried not to smile, and sat down. Without meaning to, he ended up in Genji’s seat. 

There were pictures taped to the sides, and Hanzo examined them, trying not to seem too interested. 

There was one picture, with a group of four. He didn’t know two of them (a tall muscular man with two shotguns crossed in an ‘X’ over his chest, and a tall red-haired woman, one hand glowing yellow, one hand glowing a dark purple) but the other two in the picture were McCree and Genji, both looking considerably younger. 

Genji’s suit was different, in the photo. The top half of his face was showing and his left arm and part of his chest were uncovered, with red tubes sticking out of the skin. Hanzo winced, just looking at it, and tried not to feel sick. (He did that to him. He put him in that suit because it was his ‘duty.’) The word ‘Blackwatch’ was written on the bottom of the photo. 

The next one, if it were anyone else, he would have rolled his eyes at. But it was his brother, so he examined the photo. It pictured Genji and McCree. Genji was holding McCree’s gun, aimed at an unseen target in front of him, in the Blackwatch armor from before. McCree looked positively infatuated, as he stood with his chest pressed to Genji’s back, one arm around his waist, the other guiding the hand with the gun, head resting on Genji’s shoulder. 

If it were anyone else, if he were perhaps younger, a time before all of this hardship, he would’ve made fun of Genji for it, or perhaps gagged. 

Now, he just looked away. 

There was a small drawing on the other side, of what looked to be a simply styled Genji. It was cute, and well done, with Genji in a little pose, and it made Hanzo smile. 

He felt himself being watched, and looked up meeting Morrison’s eyes. Or, he would have if he didn’t wear that tactical visor. He didn’t go by Morrison anymore - it was Soldier 76 now - but Hanzo had yet to hear anyone here call him that yet. Instead it was ‘Commander,’ or ‘Jack’ for those who knew him better. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever been on a team before,” Morrison said, leaning forward in his seat. The other conversation in the ship dwindled down.

Hanzo simply raised his chin, didn’t reply, and kept staring straight at him. 

“You’re not used to having people care,” Morrison said. “So you cared for yourself. And your brother.” He jerked his chin toward Genji. “Until you didn’t.” Hanzo’s gaze faltered. “So let me tell you something about a team.” 

Hanzo does not want to hear this from a man who does not know just how much he has done. 

“A team means we watch each other’s backs. When someones injured, we get them out of there the moment we can. When everything goes to hell, we still have each other. When we’re hurting, when we feel like there is nothing for us, we know that ain’t true. We're not just a team, we’re a family. Your brother’s one of us.” Morrison paused and looked to Genji. “Hell, he’s probably the best of us. He’s our family, and he wants you to be his. So, for now, at least, until Jesse probably tries to kill you-” Jesse raises his eyebrows at Morrison “-consider yourself part of the team.” 

Hanzo looks away, down at the ground, his hair falling in his face. “Genji,” he calls. He knows his brother, and he knows he is not asleep anymore. 

“Yes?” Genji replies immediately, and sits up slightly. McCree frowns at him, which Genji ignores. 

Hanzo switches to Japanese. “Do you remember the story of the dragons that our father told us?” 

Genji nods. “It was your favorite. I remember it well. He used to tell us it every night.” 

Hanzo keeps looking at the floor. “It is our story now.” 

Genji is silent for a moment. 

“It always has been.” 

-

It’s his fifth mission as Overwatch. Hanzo does not know why he has stayed. He should have left by now. This was not supposed to take more than a couple days. 

His fifth mission is as part of an extraction team, while a few others deal with the Null Sector invasion. He accompanies Lena, codename Tracer, Ana Amari, and Winston to extract a rather loopy and drugged up Lucio from capture. 

Things were really not supposed to go this bad. He was not supposed to use the dragon two times already. Any more, he is afraid he will go down.

-

Genji feels Hanzo’s first dragons rise, and deep in his bones, his dragon wants to follow. He lets him out moments later, when Jesse lingers too long in one spot and lets the omnics aim and fire, causing him to hit the ground hard. He gets up a second later, and Genji breathes a sigh of relief. 

The second twin dragons are unexpected, and Genji holds his back, hesitating for too long, just narrowly avoiding getting hit. He frowns, glancing to the direction he feels Hanzo is, and prays that he doesn’t use them again. 

The third time, Genji nearly trips over his feet. His dragon roars in his chest, wanting out, wanting to join his brother. He holds back again, and grabs Jesse. With a quick explanation, they are breaking off from the group and dashing through the city. Genji’s dragon churns his stomach and slithers up his arms, and he nearly trips again at the sensation. If he had hairs on the back of his neck, they would be standing up. He shivers, and runs on, Jesse at his side. 

“Hanzo!” he shouts, the moment he sees his brother. He looks pale, and shaky, but is still supporting an all but completely pliant Lucio, with Lena on the DJ’s other side. 

Hanzo jerks his head up, and sighs in relief upon seeing Genji. 

“Hanzo, what are you doing? You can’t do that again!” Genji calls, and barely notes his accent getting thicker. 

Jesse takes Lucio from Hanzo and Lena, nodding along to his drugged blabbering, and follows Ana to the drop point, after squeezing Genji’s hand in silent good-bye. 

“Calm, brother, I will be alright. There were too many, we would have never made it out otherwise,” Hanzo explains, and up close, Genji can tell just how much using his dragons with insufficient recharge time has affected him. 

“Come, we should get you somewhere else. You are about to pass out,” Genji rationalized, then grabbed Hanzo’s arm. 

A noise stopped them. When he looked up, Genji was met with the sight of a giant omnic, the same type from Paris. He cursed under his breath and unsheathed his shoto, his shurikens sliding into place in his knuckles. 

“Go, Hanzo. The rest of the team and I will defeat it,” Genji said, motioning to him to leave. 

“I am not leaving you,” Hanzo promised, and Genji paused. 

“Get behind cover then,” Genji sighed, before vaulting into the air, climbing the rooftops in a blink of an eye. 

Apparently, this one was smarter than the last. Genji got swatted into the rooftops, seconds after his dragon faded and he had cut through the mech’s chest. Winston and D.Va ended up in the river. Tracer got hit in the chest, her chronal accelerator nearly failing completely, only saved by Angela. The fight, in all its glory, was nearly a loss. 

Nearly.

Hanzo’s dragons have always been powerful. There was a strange thing about the Shimada dragons; the more they got used, the wilder they became. Hanzo’s dragons, the two spirals, roaring and racing across the horizon, were dangerous, and reckless. Even more so now, when they had been given that prominent taste of freedom from being released so many times already, without the proper reigning in after the individual releases. 

It was nearly a loss, because Hanzo, in all his reckless glory, chanted that incantation, and the dragons were released upon that final arrow. The mech fell, and with it, as the dragons raced across the soaring sky, roaring and flying and burning, Hanzo fell too. 

“Hanzo!” Genji screamed, his voice modulator glitching slightly, as the dragons roared and his brother’s bow hit the ground.

Genji scrambled up, tripping over his own feet, as the wires in his left knee sparked and it nearly gave out, seizing up. It stopped a second later, and Genji dashed on, throwing himself off a rooftop, barely making it into a roll to lessen the damage on his joints, and dashing forward the moment he got his feet underneath him.

Hanzo lies un-moving on the ground.

Genji, tripping over himself again, gets to Hanzo, crashing to his knees by his side, jarring his exoskeleton, and sorely regrets it when he feels his left knee pop out. Dammit. 

But not the problem right now. 

“Doctor Ziegler, we require assistance,” he said into his comm, ignoring the way his voice glitched and broke. He’d have to get that looked at. 

“Not to worry, Genji, we’ll have him back up in no time,” Angela said, as she floated down to Hanzo’s side from the sky, as the sun’s light bent to shine on her. 

“You will not be able to wake him up. Not until the dragons come back,” Genji explained. Or tried to, with his damaged artificial voice box. 

Angela frowned, and nodded. “Then I will do what I can,” she declared before resting her hands on Hanzo, her golden healing flowing through him. “And you, Genji? Can I do anything for you here?” she asked him, referring to his injuries. 

“Not the k-kind of thing we can fi-ix here,” Genji tried to say, trying to shove down the frustration of his broken state. 

“Alright,” Angela hummed. “Medbay first thing then.” Genji nodded, tried to shift his left leg, but it didn’t seem to work. He sighed, and called Jesse.

(“Whaddaya mean ya ain’t hurt? I can hear ya, Genji,” McCree said, and Genji could hear his exasperation. 

“It’s just my voice box and my leg, Jesse. I need help, but I am not in pain,” Genji sighed, rolling his eyes. 

“Where the hell are you?” Jesse sighed back, shoving Peacekeeper into his holster. 

“By the river where Winston and D.Va got thrown into,” Angela answered for him. 

“So that’s what happened to them,” Jesse murmured, then hung up.)

Genji felt a whisper down his back, and turned. The dragons were on their way back. He wasn’t sure if Angela could see them, or if it was just his own dragon greeting his brothers, but the blue wisps, smaller, more broken up, drifted their way down to Hanzo, and flowed up his arm. Hanzo shifted, and Genji breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hanzo,” Genji murmured, grabbing his hands. 

His older brother frowned, eyes still closed, from where he lay. “If you even think,” Hanzo said, “of saying anything at all pertaining to my bad decisions, I will stab you. Again.” Genji breathed a laugh, and grabbed his brother’s forearm, hauling him into a seated position. 

Genji raised his hands in surrender and grins, even if Hanzo can’t see his smile. Hanzo bites back a groan and rolls his eyes at Genji, a little weakly, a little unsure, but he still does. Genji takes that as a win, even amidst everything. Angela floats off, being beckoned by Morrison, giving Hanzo and Genji each another little burst of healing, just so they can make it back to the ship. 

“Heyyy, darlin’,” Jesse drawls as here nears. Hanzo tries not to roll his eyes at him, and works on checking his bow over, and trying to look interested in it. 

Genji doesn’t reply, merely lifts his arms up from his seated position, making ‘grabby hands’ at Jesse, who rolls his eyes and hauls him up, grinning all the same, even as Genji hauls himself onto his back. 

“Don’t tell me I'mma have to carry you, too,” Jesse half-jokes, directed at Hanzo. Hanzo merely spares him a glance, before, a little shakily, hauling himself up and following behind Genji and Jesse as they make their way to the ship. 

The rest of the team is oddly delighted at seeing Hanzo.

Not Jesse or Genji, just Hanzo. 

He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Guess you finally learned a little bit about what a team is,” Morrison says to him after dinner, as Hanzo attempts to hide his smokes from Angela on the balcony of the watchpoint. 

Hanzo doesn’t answer, just uses his first cigarette to light his next one and offers the back to Morrison. He shakes his head, and takes a sip of whatever alcohol is in his can. 

“It… is different from what I thought you had meant,” Hanzo says finally, just as the silence was getting to be too oppressive. 

“Yeah? What’d you mean?” Morrison asks, and his tone makes Hanzo think that somehow this isn’t a question Soldier is actually curious about. 

“I never knew that they would care for me. You just said that I would care for them,” Hanzo answers simply, blowing out a breath of smoke. 

Morrison turns his head to him, looking at Hanzo in a way that sets Hanzo on edge. “Yeah, it’s kind of a two-way street here, kid,” he snarks, something in his voice making Hanzo grits his teeth around his cigar. 

“I am sorry, are you just- everyone here’s father or something?” Hanzo snarks back, trying his damndest to not say something he will regret. 

Morrison scoffs, although it’s almost a laugh. “Screw off, kid,” he says, and goes back inside.


End file.
